Of Feral Blood-
by Mikiya
Summary: What? Trieze alive? evil supa humans keepin hm in check? or is this young author bitin off mo' plot than she can chew? you tell me when u read and review! (rated R fo' now, jus in case i get to graphic w/ any violent scenes)


"Of Feral Blood"

A GW fan-fiction by Mikiya

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its characters. I'm just borrowing them for this fanfic, which I'm not making any profit off of, so spare me the lawsuits!

From the cover of a nearby tree, he watched the young woman place a bouquet of roses before the grave gracefully. From watching her he had found that her every move, right down to the way she delicately wiped a tear forming in the corner of her eye, was like watching the most virtuous of ballet dancers float across a stage. 'Dorothy…' She had grown into a fine young lady. So sad she was though. 'She couldn't possibly be mourning me after all these years…' thought Trieze Kushrenada as he watched his cousin (once removed) stare placidly down at the stone marking his death. Those creamy blue eyes. For some time he couldn't take his away from hers. Then, her eyes left the tombstone and looked directly into his. 

Time it's self seem to have stood still in shock of that moment. The usually sure minded Trieze wasn't sure quite how to react. Nothing but trouble could come of this. He wasn't meant to be seen. He was strictly forbidden to reveal himself to anyone who had known him before he had died. He hadn't meant to be seen, especially not by her. But either way he was seen- Dorothy stood staring at him, shaking like she was looking at a ghost. Perhaps she did think he was a ghost, it been so long after all. But that wasn't the rational minded Dorothy he knew, she didn't believe in haunts and such. "Dorothy…" he said her name aloud, as he took a step from behind the tree towards her. It felt so good to call her after all these years. But she stepped back shaking her head in disbelief, "No…" she said breathlessly stepping back faster. Unfortunately she wasn't in such grace that she could run backwards in high heel pumps and when the gravel from the path gave way to her sudden movements, she fell. Almost too stunned to cry out she fell backwards, without any way of breaking her fall, her head generously grazed the sharp edge of another tombstone behind her. 

Trieze rushed to her side. It was time for him to be the scared one now, as he looked upon the injured form of the beautiful girl, a stream of scarlet liquid trickling down from side of her head that had fallen upon the tombstone. At once he pulled up his tucked in undershirt and tore a portion off of it to apply to the gash on her head. He looked around the cemetery but nobody else was to be seen, which is just as well because he didn't think he'd trust this flower of a girl to any mourning person or strange cemetery worker, not in her condition. He lifted her body from the ground with ease, not that she wasn't a reasonable weight, but Trieze now possessed a most unreasonable strength. The blood flow had seemed to slow down for now, but he had better get her somewhere where he could take care of her injury. He looked down at her perfectly made up face. Eyebrows trimmed to fine lines, glossy lipstick painted just right to make her lips look fuller. She had grown up so much. He shifted her body in his arms to able himself to hold the bandage, now soiled with blood, against her still bleeding cut. 

"You took this pretty well, didn't you, love?" he said to her unconscious form. Trieze, with Dorothy in his arms, vacated the cemetery quickly.

*****

Dorothy's once unconscious form stirred then awoke. Her head swam with dizziness as she sat up on the couch she had been lain upon. 'What happened?' She touched a throbbing pain on the side of her head, which had been wrapped with a bandage. She remembered going to the cemetery, then she remembered a car ride? But that couldn't be right, she had walked to the cemetery. The lady with whom she was staying with didn't live to far from it. Her vision focused and she saw that she wasn't in a familiar place. How did she get here and more importantly who took her here? Was she hit over the head and kidnapped? What was going to happen to her? The more disturbing her inquisitions of herself were, the more frightened she became. Her breathing became heavy as she was near tears. A man then walked into the room. Eye contact was made between the two again. 

"Trieze?" 

In the instant she saw him the past events flooded into her mind. Dorothy fell back into unconsciousness again.

Cerulean blue eyes fluttered open to meet the ceiling of what looked to be like a hotel room. The owner of those eyes quickly became aware that another body was occupying the couch upon which she was laying. "Are you going to stay with me this time?" said Trieze to the blonde staring him with suspicion. She nodded. "Water?" he motioned a cup he held in his hand towards her. She recoiled herself further to the opposite end of the couch. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I think you already know." Said Trieze. The silence he received from her was one of the loudest he had heard in a while. And it was strangely refreshing. Since she obviously wasn't in a humoring mood Trieze decided to give into her will, for now. 

"I am, or I was, Trieze Kushrenada." He said. Dorothy's look still regarded him as suspicious. He smirked "What, you didn't believe I was some sort of ghost did you?" Dorothy crossed her arms in front of her very full chest, as Trieze had observed earlier, and retorted, 

"I believe there is mystery to life, and death, that we as humans perhaps aren't meant to understand, I do not however, believe that you are, or ever were Trieze Kushrenada." Trieze smiled. It was good to see that the lady hadn't lost all of her fire. 

"But I think you do, or at least want to." He said. She looked the fairly handsome man up and down. No, she looked the _very_ handsome man up and down. There was no way he could really be her cousin though, this man lacked a certain social grace about him. They way he sat leaning back casually on the couch, slurping up the water he had offered her before. He appeared to her in his tank top under clothing, wearing some baggy khaki pants, common street-clothing that she usually stereotyped with a common criminal. His build was very nice, his arms and chest appeared thick and firm through the thin tank. It was a mid-sized build that attracted her, yet scared her somewhat at the same time. She wondered just how defenseless she was against his obvious strength

"If indeed you are Trieze, where have you been all these years?" she inquired. 

"Telling you that, my dear, would put your life in more danger possibly than I already have just by allowing you to see me." He said.

"More then you already have by gashing the side of my head open?" Trieze stood up.

"Now you know you did that to yourself miss, when you tried to moon walk on lose gravel in high heels. I checked the grave stone that you fell on, but I didn't stick around to see if it survived the hit." 

Dorothy felt the bandage around her head once more, becoming more annoyed at his attempts to humor her. 

"Well then it's your fault I fell then, hiding then popping out of no where like that and where have you taken me?"

"If there isn't a way to say this without sounding as criminal as you're making me out to be, I've taken you to my hotel room. I wasn't just going to leave a pretty girl like yourself lying in a cemetery bloody and unconscious."

"You could've taken me to a hospital."

"No, I couldn't of. I'm not supposed to make myself known to anyone, especially not you. And what better way to get to know people than bringing a beautiful bleeding woman into a crowded hospital. Besides I bet the medical training I have matches and may be even better then some of the doctors in this town."

"So you have been busy over these years, though I doubt it's been in medical school. Why can't you show yourself to people who know you identity."

"Ah, so you finally admit I'm Trieze Kushrenada."

"That is a very nice diversion of subject you just inserted there, but you didn't answer my question. You haven't answered either of my questions pertaining to where you've been and why you have to be so secretive. If you told my life is in danger in an effort to warn me against harm, rather than it being a sick game you play with people to have them fearing for their lives before you have them killed, you'll tell me exactly what I'm up against so I can stand a chance to help myself." 

Her words were ice cold daggers, cutting strait though his soul. She was right. But how could he? Sum up an entire five years of a most exhausting existence in service to an underground organization that had him doing more dangerous missions than some type of super spy. He didn't want to drag her into this more than he had already. But he knew some where in his subconscious he must of wanted to, I mean to have let himself be seen like that? Ferial beings such as him didn't make mistakes. They weren't built to. It's just that living underground was so lonely. And he still hadn't quite let go of his past life. He couldn't understand why though. That's why he had gone to the cemetery, to his grave, his so-called resting spot. To let go of a life he couldn't get back, a life he probably didn't want back anyhow. 

Upon looking back at his former life he was a spoiled self-righteous upper classed snob of a pretty boy. One thing he did have going for him was his charismatic charm, but the people who he charmed into believing in him; he returned their faith and loyalty by sending them into a useless war. And here he was again, leading someone, a young beautiful someone with so much potential ahead of her into a most deadly situation.

"Well?" said Dorothy. Well indeed! Would it even be worth his time trying to explain how criminally insane and dangerous were the people controlling him? He used the term 'people' loosely there, as he didn't consider any of them, and even himself to be really human anymore. But there was no way any ordinary gangsters could keep a dominating person like him under submission, those that he served, he served loyally only out of a mixture of fear and commonsense. Dorothy cleared her throat. He could tell she was getting impatient. He wouldn't tell her more than she needed to know, or more than he could stand to reminisce about as a mindless soldier for the organization he worked for, But he would find some way, anyway, to make it clear to her of the danger that she could be in. He sat back down on the couch. 

"It all started some years back when I died in battle. When I woke up I wasn't dead, but I soon discovered I was still very much in hell-"

"If you don't mind, I'd like you to get to the point, I don't want to sit here all evening to have you tell me a lot of nothing."

"MISS Catalonia, if _you_ don't mind I'd like you to shut the hell up and listen to my story the way I want to tell it, or just sit there and know a whole lot of nothing with out me saying a word."

Dorothy gasped slightly in shock, opened her mouth to say something, no doubt extremely witty in reply, but thought better of it. 

"Please continue." She said a slight hint of bitterness in her tone.

"That's better," Said Trieze. "Besides, I've never known you to pass up a good story. Now as I was saying, I woke up in hell…"

~*~ Hmm…secret organization keeping Trieze under the thumb…is Dorothy asking for more information than she can handle? What are 'Ferial beings'? We'll find out in the next- well maybe not the next chapter cause I hope to complicate the plot a little more than that- chapters of "Of Feral Blood"

-1 more thang- Id like to say thanx 2 those who reviewed my otha story "what really matters" cause their good revs made me feel like starting this story- Deathscythe Chick, Ashy, Princess Licorice, funiebones2k and anotha person- rokjai methinks? Anywho thanks for the reveiws, and thanks to anyone else who might write in later okay…PEACEOUT~*~ 


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